


Manda

by Blue_394



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Gen, ManDadlorian, Mandalorian Culture, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_394/pseuds/Blue_394
Summary: Manda: the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-likePerhaps, if Din is lucky, he will meet the child again, in some other life, another realm. But until that day comes, he will stand guard in the heavens. For even in death, nothing and no one shall harm his son.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	Manda

Until Din found the child, he assumed he would die in the line of duty. A bounty would go wrong, or perhaps he would get warrior's death, defending the tribe from savages, mercenaries or Imperials. He had come to terms with his passing and saw it as the next stage of life. But once he laid eyes on the little green alien, his opinion changed. It stared up at him with teary eyes, ears low, shaking as though knowing the IG unit had almost killed him. The little clawed hand reached out for him. The action stirred something in Din's chest.

The child was weak and innocent; it reminded him of foundlings.

At first, he only meant to be a temporary guardian. He would track down its people and return it to the race of enemy sorcerers. But as the months dragged on, Din began understanding the different cries the baby made; he knew which meant it was hungry, tired or bored and what to do in which instance. He also bought separate food for the child, not wanting the growing baby to be stuck eating tasteless, nutritionless, ration bars Din forced into his mouth. Clearing out a small draw, Din created a place for the child to store its growing collection of treasures: the shiny ball it unscrewed from the gear stick, several plastic covers it managed to chew off the controls, loose wire and other knick-knacks it had found that Din deemed safe. On the long flights through hyperspace, he read articles on other species to learn more about the child's race of enemy sorcerers. 

After one particular night in which the child was adamant it did not want to sleep, Din learnt that the child liked bed-time stories. He quickly ran out of the fragmented stories he remembered from Alderaan. So, Din switched to those his buir told him when he woke up in the night. The child would happily curl up against Din, burying its face in the crook of his neck, ears up to catch every word. Slowly, Din got used to the little green womp rat sitting in the basket on the co-pilot's chair. He started explaining things to it, having read that children were curious and soaked up information like a sponge. He showed it how to read the star charts - not that it understood anything beyond tap, tap, planet, tap, tap, another planet.

And so it went, the hunter learning how to parent a bounty almost a decade older than him.

Hours were spent in the cockpit, the child babbling nonsense while Din responded with short comments. Then, the child decided they had enough of their Beskar-clad friend not getting the true meaning behind their conversation. It huffed and threw the shiny ball at Din. Surprised, Din glanced at the ball and then at the child. Its eyes narrowed, ears lowering.

"What is it, you little womp rat?" Din asked.

Summoning the ball, the child glared at Din, cooing softly.

"Story?"

Its ears lifted slightly.

"Do you want the one about the mythosaur again?

Its little mouth smiled at him. Sighing, Din scooped the baby up and plopped it onto its lap. He slowly told the story of a brave young warrior who tamed the first mythosaur, the noble steed of a Mandalorian. When he reached the end, the child looked up at him expectantly.

"Bedtime."

The child shook its head and grabbed onto Din's cape. Burying its face, it made an unhappy sound. Two stories and a song later, it was snoring happily.

It took until two years after the rescue for Din to realise how much he cared for the child as his own. Following a lead that suggested the child's species might live in the Dagobah system, Din began the approach to the planet's surface, glancing at the child. It sensed his apprehension and frowned, tilting its head. Its bottom lip trembled. It always hated dropping out of hyperspace. Then, it hit Din like a charging Mudhorn that he didn't want to find the child's species. He had gotten used to the new routine with the baby. He didn't want to return to the traditional bounty hunting - even if Karga would greet him with open arms. The last two and a half years with the kid was worth more than the forty-one spent without it.

He was beyond relieved to find the planet abandoned. The child clung close to him throughout their little exploration, the tips of its ears brushing against his knees. On the way to the next system, Din swore the adoption vows. The baby seemed to understand the importance of the moment and stopped trying to eat the shiny ball. It demanded a hug that Din was all too happy to give.

That was the first time Din removed his helmet to the child. Confused, it slapped his face several times before accepting Din's face as that of its father.

After, Din began speaking to the child in Mando'a rather than Basic. If it was to be his foundling, it should know the language of their people. He thought about starting its training but hesitated. The child was still too young. 

And the child remained young as Din got old.

Decades passed, the child learning to talk (and then not quietening down) and gaining more freedom. It explored the ship and played games with imaginary friends, content with the strange life Din had forged for them both. It was a mix of living on the run, settling on planets, visiting Auntie Cara and working. 

Meanwhile, Din became ever more aware that time was ticking. It started when he had to start taking lower bounties, unable to chase and attack those worth more than a few thousand credits. Then, he found himself struggling to make the quick movements required to pull out his blaster before his opponent. Aged 54, Din retired after living with the child for thirteen years. Din decided he still had time though. He was older but not on his death bed quite yet.

That idea changed when he learnt of Cara's death. Somehow, he envisioned her cheating death, maybe by challenging it to an arm wrestle and winning.

He began worrying about what might happen after he passed on. He no longer felt like the invincible Mandalorian warrior he once was. Starting up the hunt once more, aged sixty, Din and his foundling searched the galaxy for the elusive species. Instead, they found nothing but empty rumours and baseless whispers. All Din knew was that, during the clone wars, a General of the same race served as the Leader of the Sorcerers. The child started becoming agitated whenever Din closed his eyes. He always promised he would wake up, but something in his heart worried that one day he wouldn't. The child would be left alone, on a ship, stranded in space.

Begrudgingly, Din plotted a course for the one place he trusted to look after the child once he passed: Sorgan. Winta greeted them both with open arms, leading them through the village that had since doubled in size. They met her wife and adopted children; the kid remembered some old friends and made new ones. 

Two years later, after guarding the child for almost three decades, Din slipped away in the middle of the night. He had always thought it would still involve a firey explosion or blaster wound, but he prefered this way. The child didn't have to see his body torn apart; the village could still give him a warrior's burial, knowing his past before the child warranted such a funeral. However, a part of Din's soul refused to leave the realm of the living. His child was young, too young, to lose its only parent. He fought against death and tried crawling towards the child only for a barrier to trap him. Crying out, Din pounded his fist against the wall, desperate to soothe his son's screaming, to wipe the tears from his cheeks and promise him that everything would be okay.

A cold hand touched his shoulder. Turning sharply, Cara's smiling face greeted him.

"Took you long enough," she teased lightly.

Din huffed. The kid wailed ingiting a fire in him. He should -

"Din. You can't go back."

No! He would. He couldn't leave the kid. Throwing his body at the barrier, Din cursed and shouted empty threats at the being blocking him from his son. The wall didn't budge; no matter how much Din attacked it.

Eventually, the worn soldier, propped up against the wall, fell into a dreamless state.

Very slowly, Din came to terms with his passing. From afar, he watched Winta, her wife and children take in the child as one of their own. She fed the child, clothed him, trained him as best as she could. When it woke up crying for Din, she was there to remind him that his buir was not gone, not really. He was still alive if only in their memory. The other children grew up and decided that their little brother would become their responsibility. When they had children of their own, the kid became a tiny uncle. The village found it incredibly entertaining when his neices and nephews, aged around 5, were taller than him and more mature. But, they remembered their promise to Din, the Mandalorian warrior that saved them from the raiders. They raised his child to remember him. No one tried to take the title of parent. That was his, alone.

When the time came for Winta to join him, he greeted her with open arms, mumbling a dozen 'thank yous' for looking after his son. Together, they continued to watch their child grow.

It stayed on Sorgan for a couple generations before a Jedi Master found him. Almost 6 in human years, the child was incredibly strong with the force. However, not having received any training, its powers were tempermental at best. Bursts of it scattered its existence. So, the Jedi settled on Sorgan for a decade to help train the child. It slowly learnt to control its powers beyond strangling, healing and stopping stuff. It began meditating under careful watch. After many years, the Jedi passed away. They warned the child that their death was coming and helped them prepare. They explained the force, how it bound everything, that it was time for them to return.

The child cried a little less when this friend died.

Half a century passed with the child practising the Jedi magic, tending to the village and playing with its great-great-great-great-nieces and nephews. It became quite the rebellious little thing. It encouraged the shenanigans, taking part when the adults turned their back.

The hardest moment came when the child stumbled onto a small group of lost and tired Mandalorians. It shouted 'buir!' before realising that it was the wrong armour. Surprised, the group took him in and returned him to the village. It took all of two minutes for the village to decide the child should go with them. Agreeing, the child refused to let go of the warriors. Their covert was apprehensive but accepted the foundling. The kid excitedly turned whenever someone walked into the room. Somehow, Din knew the kid was hoping he would see his familiar visor and shiny helmet. Every few weeks, the kid would wake up crying. Ka'ra, the armouror who decided to take the child in as her unofficial foundling, was always beside him, whispering that things would be okay but she couldn't offer any more comfort.

From the heavens, Din watched his son picked up his first blaster, wishing he could have been the one to show him how to hold it, adjusting his stance and guiding him. The kid missed the target entirely. A broken chuckle escaped Din as he watched another Mandalorian help the kid. He remembered the first time he shot a blaster; he was lucky his instructor was wearing a full set of armour that day. The kid cheated in his training, incorporating his Jedi powers here and there to knock over the older, bigger kids. It raised questions but the covert still rallied around the new foundling.

Din cried tears of joy when the kid swore the Creed. They changed to tears of anguish when he saw the familiar visor stare back at him only with two little green wings sticking out the side. The kid had it modeled after his old helmet.

Ka'ra's family took the foundling in after she died in an explosion. When she saw Din, she instantly realised who he was. She dropped to her knees, hugging his waist, crying that she would not see the child again. Din knelt beside her and placed a hand on her face. Her helmet tilted up to him.

"You will see him again," Din swore. Seeing the hundreds of people the child knew join him in whatever realm he was in, Din had come to learn that there was an afterlife, not limited to the Mandalorians. 

It broke the kid to lose another Mandalorian parental figure. Everyone kept dying around him. No one stayed. They passed on their helmets to the next generation and left.

Relying on the old Jedi Master's training, he slowly processed that death was a natural part of life. He would see Ka'ra and buir again, in the Manda, he hoped. He started learning more about the sorcerers and fashioned himself a lightsaber of his own, with a Beskar hilt and green glow. He had his first crush (something Cara and Karga found hilarious as the little green bean tried to woo a man double his height).

Two centuries passed with the kid staying with the coverts. Then, it joined a small group attempting to finally irradicate slavery from the galaxy. Proud, Cara and Din watched the kid take down war lords, strategize and lead others to victory. 

*

Eventually, almost a milenia after Din died, it was finally the child's turn to join the Manda. The growing group of family and friends left Din alone to greet his son. Cara was the last to leave, giving him a smile and squeezing his shoulder. 

The child, who remained nameless and was more accurately an adult in their late twenties, frowned at their surroundings. It felt like the real world. Yet, the force warned him that it was different. He also felt a presence he had not felt in a very, very long time. Turning, he practically jumped into Din's arms. The man fell over, chuckling and hugging his son tightly.

"Buir!"

"Womp rat."

The child laughed. It was still small compared to Din, barely the size of the man's torso.

"I missed you," Din muttered against the kid's head.

Then, the rest of the child's family appeared beside them. Each generation was unique. One was a krill farmer; another a rebel; a few were Mandalorians with different interpretations of the greed. A tall Togruta female stood behind them all. She had been its first guardian, protecting him from the Empire before the Mandalorian arrived. 

"I missed you too," the child replied.


End file.
